A Key That Costs Nothing

On a Sunday morning, golden sunlight spread gently over the temple roof, and the air was so still that the chirping of birds in the courtyard could be heard distinctly. Thousands of people filled all three floors; some sat outside in the yard, others along the alley, all listening quietly. Amid this deeply spiritual atmosphere, the Teacher's warm, resonant voice arose:

"Today we study the fifth practice of Samantabhadra Bodhisattva: the fifth, rejoicing in merit. But first, let me tell you two stories."

Everyone looked up attentively toward the dharma seat. The Teacher slowly began the first story.

— The first story: A pho seller in a faraway land.

In a certain country, there lived a pho seller with his young daughter. His wife had passed away early, and he raised his child alone, never remarrying for fear of the troubles between a stepmother and her stepchild. Father and daughter cared for each other deeply; they were not wealthy, but their home was always warm and full of love. He taught his daughter to live gently and virtuously, and he always believed that blessings from merit, not money, were what would secure his child's future.

Whenever he had a little spare money, he would use it to help people in his village and neighborhood. One day, seeing a neighbor's child return from school in tattered clothes, he quietly bought a new outfit and waited until the child finished school that afternoon to give it to them. Sometimes, hearing that someone in the neighborhood had fallen ill, he could not give much, but he would still send his daughter over with a little money to help buy medicine. What he did, month after month, year after year, was always small and humble—nothing grand—but he did it steadily throughout his entire life.

In his old age, when his daughter had grown and married, he entered the temple to practice, with extraordinary diligence. When his time to depart drew near, he announced the day and hour in advance, then peacefully closed his eyes.

The Teacher paused, looking out over the assembly:

"Hearing the life of that pho seller, what arises in your heart? Do you feel admiration?"

Many people nodded. Indeed, when we hear the story of a good person from somewhere far away, someone who has already passed on, it is easy to open our hearts in admiration.

— The second story: The neighbor next door.

The Teacher continued, his voice growing softer:

"Now let me tell you about another person. She lives right next door to us; we see her every day. She lives simply and kindly, loving everyone. Now and then she helps repair the roads, donates blood, and whenever she has a little money, she uses it to help others. Everyone in the neighborhood loves and respects her."

The Teacher stopped and looked directly at the assembly:

"Hearing the story of this neighbor, what arises in your heart? Usually it is jealousy, isn't it?"

The hall fell silent. Many people suddenly started, recognizing themselves in the story. The two stories were exactly alike: a good person, living decently, helping the world. But the person far away, already dead, we admire. The person beside us, still alive and loved by everyone, we find irritating and envy. Why?

The Teacher explained slowly, his voice earnest:

"Because our ordinary nature as unenlightened beings is to not want anyone to be better than us, especially those right beside us. With colleagues and fellow practitioners, the closer they are, the more easily we envy them. But anyone who has died, who has vanished somewhere far away, we can easily praise. This is precisely the greatest obstacle on the path from being an ordinary person to becoming a great one."

The Teacher added a story about poor painters who, while alive, were suppressed and whose paintings no one would buy—because if the paintings sold at high prices, the painters would become rich. But once they died, the paintings sold for high prices, and now the owners of the paintings were the ones who grew wealthy, so everyone praised the work. Is such a mind wholesome or unwholesome? It is unwholesome. And every one of us carries that seed within.

— The key to greatness.

The Teacher emphasized:

"Admiration is the doorway, the key, the very beginning of the path by which an ordinary person becomes great. And does this admiring heart cost any money? Not a single penny. But is it easy to do? It is not easy. Because it strikes directly at the deep-rooted jealousy within the nature of all sentient beings."

The Teacher posed a question that left the entire hall silent:

"Tell me whom you praise, and I will tell you the measure of your virtue. If you only praise those who have already died, then you are still just an ordinary person. But if you can praise the person beside you, even your own junior, then you are beginning to become great."

The Teacher continued, his gaze drifting into the distance:

"I teach the dharma and have gained some reputation. But if tomorrow a young teacher in his twenties rose up and taught brilliantly, could I admire my own junior, or would I think, 'That one is my student—how could he surpass me?' If so, then all my decades of practice would be wasted, because I would not have overcome my own ego."

The whole assembly fell still. Each person turned inward to examine themselves.

The Teacher concluded, his voice full of encouragement:

"In studying this practice of admiration today, we must overcome every obstacle. Admire the Buddha, admire the bodhisattvas, admire the great and famous figures of the world. But most important of all, we must be able to admire those who stand beside us as our equals, and even those beneath us. When the heart of admiration becomes complete, no longer obstructed by our petty ego, then the door to greatness will open."

The morning sun had risen high, shining down upon the whole assembly. Thousands of people sat there, each holding in their heart a precious key—one that costs nothing, yet can transform countless future lifetimes.

The meaning of the story

The practice of admiration (rejoicing in merit) is the cheapest yet most difficult key to transform a person from ordinary to great. The difficulty lies in overcoming jealousy—the deep-rooted nature of sentient beings, especially toward those who are our equals, those right beside us. When we can admire the goodness in others, whether they are strangers or those close to us, whether they surpass us or fall short of us, only then does our heart truly open wide, and cause and effect (karmic law) will lead us to achieve the same beautiful qualities they possess.

Compiled from a dharma talk by the Venerable Thich Chan Quang